Devoid
by The Decemberist
Summary: Why then?" He gestures to her arms and wrists, and the old and new scars that mar her skin. "To feel."


Okay to make sure there is no confusion: the man is Naraku and the girl is Kanna. I don't think either of them have healing powers, but for the purposes of this fic we're going to pretend they do!  
Disclaimer- I own nothing

Devoid

The whisper of footsteps in the hall distracts him for moment; soft and gentle, like the slight patter of rain on a roof. They are neither slowed nor hurried; they stay at a constant pace as they come closer to the room he is residing in. There is a gentle swish of silk as the owner of rain-like footsteps raises a delicate arm and opens the door with ease. Large emotionless eyes meet his burning maroon ones; the delicate face is still impassive as the sight of him covered in his own blood meets her depthless eyes.

Her outward appearance is her biggest deception; a small and childlike body clothed in the palest of colors. Her soft ivory hair fames her angel-like face. It screams innocence, yet that is everything she is not. She is an apathetic being; emotionless as the clothes that cling to her small body and the mirror that is usually held in her hands. Killing means nothing to her; the feeling of ending another creature's life brings her no remorse. Or pleasure, unlike him.

She stands emotionless in the doorway; her face as blank as a slate wiped clean. He keeps his blood colored eyes locked on her before he feels another spasm of pain and shudders; enjoying it more then he should.

He loves pain, whether he is inflicting it on others or himself. His is a sadist and a masochist in every way. He loves the sharpness and the rawness it brings to him and others; the way it strips people of all coherency. It's his addiction.

She is still standing; though moments have passed she has not changed. She defies all natural laws; time does not change her in any way. She will remain an innocent looking child for the rest of her emotionless existence.

The wave of pain passes and she continues standing in the doorway; her eyes boring into him; to him she is reading his blackened soul.

She looks so innocent, and for a moment it enrages him. He wants to corrupt the false innocence; to make her scream the way a child should not scream. Another moment passes, and he comes back to his senses. He knows that even if he were to take this fragile looking being, she would fail to give him the satisfaction he desired. She would not cry out in pain or beg for mercy. She would just allow him to have his way with her, devoid of all feeling.

It is not the first time he has felt this way about her, or about anything looking innocent. He's made it his personal mission to destroy innocence.

Still, his strange creation intrigues him. He has yet to understand why she has even sought him out, until he sees the blood dripping down onto her white palms. It is a strange thing, he wonders to himself as he holds a bloodied hand over her own, how she could heal others but not herself. The blood dripping down from her arms and wrists disappear; the self-inflicted cuts healed.

As she examines the newly formed scars on her delicate skin, he ponders why his emotionless little creation is still cutting herself. Well, he corrects himself mentally, not truly emotionless. To an extent she would still feel; one could not exist without a feeling of self-preservation. So she could most likely feel something like want, and she most certainly could feel pain. She still has a human like body; she has nerves that react when disrupted with a blade or such.

He stops pondering the strange child in front of him and lies down on a bed, wanting to rest before deciding what he wanted to do next to reclaim the jewel shards. He closes his blood colored eyes yet he can still feel her presence in the room. It draws nearer and nearer until he can feel her warm breath on his bloody and sweaty skin.

Fragile hands, the hands of child, gently dance across his wounded back and he wonders for a moment what in the hell she is doing. His question is answered as he feels slow warmth and he understands she is healing him as he healed her.

**You let this happen to yourself.** It is a statement, not a question. He has never seen her question, for to be able to question one must feel curious.

**The demons are getting much too easy to defeat when I'm at my full strength; I thought a little handicapping on my part would make the fight more enjoyable.** He gauges her reaction, already knowing there will be none. As he knew, her slender face remains without feelings or change.

**You find enjoyment in this pain.** She says it slowly, like she is trying to wrap her sharp mind around the concept. He is almost positive she knows what a masochist is.

**So do you.** He snorts and nods to her recently healed cuts and the dark scars, old and new, that mar her otherwise flawless skin.

**No.** Her answer is simple; the voice delivering the answer is flat. He wonders if he is hallucinating, but there seems to be something behind her simple answer.

**Then why?** He doesn't know why he is questioning her. In fact he doesn't even care about the apathetic girl in front of him.

**To feel.** Her answer mildly surprises him, he is very sure it is evident on his face.

**You can't feel.**

**I may not feel emotions but I can feel pain.** He stares at her for a long moment; trying to understand the enigma that stands expressionless in front of him. She returns his stare before she gracefully turns away and walks back to the door; the pace exactly the same as before. She shuts the door with the same ease, and walks down the hallway with the same rain-like footsteps until he can no longer hear her.

Against his own wishes he finds himself brooding about the supposedly feeling-less girl.

* * *

If anyone has ever played kingdom hearts, I've always thought that Kanna is kind of like the nobodies, except she doesn't have memories of emotions.  
Sorry if either of them are ooc, I'm still kind of new to Inuyasha.  
Reviews are lovely!


End file.
